


Slipping

by Vellenox



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vellenox/pseuds/Vellenox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal finds Will in the aftermath of Will's murder of a serial killer he'd been hunting down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Hannibal fic. I'm not well versed in Hannibal fic but I'm halfway through season two and I just can't help myself. I like the idea of Will slipping over the edge and turning into a killer of serial killers, so here's just a little ficlet I wrote to satiate myself.

“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along?” Will asked, idly staring down at the blood covering his clothes and his hands. “All your manipulation; inducing me into seizures, bringing me all the way to the edge just to see if I could find my way back again.” Will’s gaze was distant; his eyes completely void of emotion.

“There is only one thing I have ever wanted, Will,” Hannibal spoke, keeping a steady gaze on the skinning knife in Will’s shaking, outstretched hand. “All I want is for you to realize your full potential.” A sick smile curled Will’s lips and his eyes snapped up to meet Hannibal’s gaze.

“My _full potential_?” He laughed, the tone borderline hysterical. “Doctor Lector,” Will rose from where he sat, the blood soaked clothing sticking tight against his skin with the movement, “In your professional opinion, have I reached my full potential?” He spread his arms wide and turned to face the massacre – his masterpiece.

Blood covered the walls like a fresh layer of paint, dripping and drying, splattered in such a way that it resembled an assortment of ink images so complex their interpretations were endless. Hannibal looked at the blood and he saw Will’s psychological state so clearly in the chaos; it was beautiful.

He could see each swipe of Will’s knife, cutting deep and severing veins. He could almost feel the way Will’s muscles would have tensed, and the release of euphoria with each slash. The wrath and malice that drove him over the edge.

Slumped against the wall was the body of one Mr. Lockhart – the last serial killer Will had been assigned to, and a personal acquaintance of Hannibal.

“Impressive.” Hannibal commented, admiring the irony of Will’s choice of weapon. “It wasn’t a slow death.” The cuts were deep, but not so dire that they were the cause of death. Lockhart had been drained of his blood slowly. “It’s interesting to finally see the product of your passion.”

“Passion?” Will asked, his voice hollow. “This isn’t passion.”

“Quite the contrary,” Hannibal disagreed, “Your passion is unmistakable.”

“Then I’m a monster.” Will grimaced.

“There are no such things as monsters, Will. Just people. People who embody our fears and our insecurities.” Hannibal expounded, but Will didn’t look reassured.

“I killed him. His blood is all over me.” Will blinked down at his hands, his brow furrowing in disbelief. “I did this.”

“Yes, you did. And you are covered in his blood.” Hannibal reached out, resting his hand on Will’s shoulder. “And you saved lives.”

Will recoiled from Hannibal’s touch, releasing his grip on the handle of the knife and letting it fall to the floor. “There’s a difference between saving lives and _this_.” Will looked pale; his eyes were wide and wild, and he was backing away from Hannibal. “This is _murder_. This is _insanity_.”

Hannibal remained silent, watching Will as he slowly began to slip into shock.

“I wanted him to suffer,” Will admitted, staring down at the cold corpse, “I wanted him to feel _everything_ his victims felt when he skinned them alive.” Hannibal knew that Will’s empathy usually led him to take on the persona of the killer; at least that’s how Jack Crawford utilized Will’s abilities. But there was another side to Will’s struggle that no one got to see very often.

Will empathized with the killers _and_ the victims. He felt every bit of pain and sadness that swallowed up the families and friends of the lost.

“Rightly so,” Hannibal could understand the justification, “Warren Lockhart deserved his fate.”

“A hundred times over,” Will agreed, his tone growing dark as he slipped back towards the edge. “They all do.” He closed his eyes tightly, his hands curling into shaking fists. He took a few deep breaths and when he reopened his eyes he was looking directly at Hannibal. “You deserve to die Hannibal, for everything that you’ve done. To me, to Abigail, to Beverly, and to all the people you’ve killed and _eaten_.”

“You’ve tried to kill me before Will,” Hannibal reminded him, “Perhaps you should have followed through with it the first time if you believe you’re the one to deliver my reckoning.”

Will shook his head. “You deserve to die, but now so do I.” Will looked down at the floor for a moment, disengaging from Hannibal to check his phone. “I’m calling Jack. He needs to know about this.”

“You’d be sentencing yourself to a lifetime inside of a cell,” Hannibal tried to sway him, “You can’t plead unconsciousness this time. They’ll never let you out. There will be no visits from Jack about cases to solve. People will die without your help Will.”

“He’s dead!” Will thrust his finger towards Lockhart. “Because of me, his life is over. He doesn’t get any more chances.”

“But you do, Will.” Hannibal urged, reaching out towards him with a friendly hand. “If you allow yourself forgiveness you can move passed this. You can turn this into something positive and beneficial.”

“How can this be anything other than _sick_?” Will’s voice cracked and he choked up, tears welling in his eyes.

“You can control it,” Hannibal replied, “I can teach you. Next time you won’t fall over the edge. I promise. Let me help you.”

Will looked hesitant for a moment, staring too long at the bloody mess that was his creation. He met Hannibal’s confident gaze with an unsteady one. Finally, after a long silence, Will reached out and grabbed hold of Hannibal’s hand.

“Show me.”


End file.
